Letter #4: Of Sick Days and Snarled Feelings

Dear Moira,

I would have to say that the experience of wrangling an unexpected bout of flu makes me, sadly, not the right candidate for a dog exchange. Yours in particular sounds like a charming specimen of that long-forgotten sensation, “Energy”. It is hard to remember words that devolve emotions such as actual pleasure in aching muscles when huddled in a wool coat and blanket, tea mug at the ready in order to drown the next coughing fit.

Oh, right. This was a letter, not a monologue on the perils of common winter ailments.

I have had my fair of Jonah days recently, so I know very well how you are feeling. In particular, there is always this uncertainty in my mind, this veritable Night Vale-esque glow cloud letting off frequent and forbidding auras of low self-esteem, negative emotions and the occasional unexplainable jag of tears only assuaged with chocolate – which I am, sadly, lacking at the moment.

I find it gratifying, at least, to realize that a post I wrote to combat my own Jonah days, is now being peddled by acquaintances on Twitter as a decided way that they dismissed their own. In a way, that was what I needed to understand that these days are days when you are unraveled, when everything seems wrong, but someone else can use that snarled thread to mend themselves and, in their own way, wrap you back up the way you need to.

Like you said, I believe that at least aspiring to be content is a worthy cause. It is not the same for everyone, and God knows that it is not easy, but we must keep our knapsacks on and our walking sticks in hand as we move forward.

On the bright side of this dismal attack of the flu, I have been able to do a little reading – and, surprisingly, it helped to assuage some of my doubts about the looming recurrence of the Work-in-Progress I Will Not Even Have to Name. To sum matters up, a certain author I admire in terms of language and fairy tale situations is submitting her last book within her currently running series. That said, certain fans have organized a re-read of the first installment – and despite feeling as though this would be a Very Bad Idea, I pursued the challenge as well.

I was reading the book last night, and though I did have to pause and bite my lip at a particular turn of phrase, I realized a few things: there are aspects of the plot, the characters, their *cough* moral standards and what have you, that I dislike. There are flaws in this story. There are flaws in the author’s writing, which she is aware of, just as I am all too knowing of the mistakes and errors in my draft.

And yet, she keeps writing. She keeps her head down and she tries her best, and that is one trait I can admire her for. However, I realized (and I am aware this is a fact you’ve informed me of before), I no longer can hit myself over the head with this book – mentally, of course – for anything I find wrong with my own writing. It’s not perfect. Neither are my drafts.

And yet, both of us – this famous author and this girl huddled in a coat attempting to weave words together so her best friend does not take her sanity into question – we must persevere and put our words down on paper.

I suppose that should put an end to my stint on the soapbox. On to the list.

Touch: This woolly coat. I feel quite like a sheep at the moment, albeit a warm, possibly more pleasant-smelling sheep.

Taste: Soup, soup and more soup. At least it is palatable. I’ve been doing my best to pick out the leeks, though. They are of the frozen variety and thus rather bitter. I am utterly spoiled by fresh vegetables.

Smell: Is there something to smell? My nose begs to differ, ungrateful traitor that it is.

Hearing: I have spent most of the day thus far hopping from anime instrumental mixes to general lyric-less offerings. I am attempting to finish building a playlist for that Work-in-Progress That Is Spoken Of Too Much for Its Own Good, and have stream-lined it to be as wordless and non-distracting as possible from its predecessor.

Reading: I suppose I will finish the book I mentioned earlier, and then return to the pile that needs to be reviewed. I decided to stop reading a new release, pitched as a “YA Murder Mystery Satire”, which was ridiculously…disturbing. (Refer to my last update on the matter.)



P.S. Yes. Yes, it is.

P.P.S. This made me smile. I thought you might enjoy it as well.


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